


Nothing Could Fall

by ask_the_birds



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Mentions of Sex, Ok let's go, Sci-fi/futuristic au?, billy is a serial murderer au?, futuristic oligarchy au lol, heather is his VERY willing accomplice, max is his unwilling accomplice, mike is stupid and rich, not sure how to describe it, pretty much everyone's gay, robin and steve are police, there's about to be some WEIRD pairings, there's more people but i don't wanna list them all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ask_the_birds/pseuds/ask_the_birds
Summary: The year is 3010, and Hawkins is a sprawling metropolis in "progress", meaning that the rich live catty and carefree lives and everyone else suffers. Max's situation is a little different from the average citizen, though: her brother is a serial murderer who has her sell whatever he loots. Desperate for an escape, she becomes entangled with a duo of super powered teens, Kali and El, on the run from the law. Meanwhile, Mike, the son of the powerful Wheeler family, decides to aid a boy he meets who's looking for someone named "Jane." A new power is on the rise, though, a man named Brenner, who could spell disaster for all the citizens of Hawkins.yeah the synopsis doesn't really explain it, just read it.
Relationships: Barbara "Barb" Holland/Nancy Wheeler, Billy Hargrove/Heather Holloway, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Kali Prasad, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Kali Prasad, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	1. North Hawkins, "The Bones", 1:00 AM

The night Max turned seventeen, she had a very concrete plan for what she wanted to do, which was go down to North Hawkin’s Plaza, spend the night getting absolutely plastered with Will and Dustin and Lucas, and maybe even treat herself to a chocolate-covered pear drop or something. Instead, she was half-hanging out the window of an apartment that was not her own while her brother murdered a stranger in a nearby room. So, yeah. Not her idea of a rocking time.

It seemed a little ridiculous to be acting as a look out, when, if she were to see officers around this part of town, she would be completely fine with exposing what was going on. In fact, she would jump at that chance. Unfortunately, Max couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a policeman in this part of Hawkins, and she had no doubt Billy would slit her throat if he heard her sneeze louder than usual. 

God, she wanted a drink.

Not just an alcoholic one either, just any drink. It was hot in the summer, unbearably so indoors, just barely better outside, hence Max’s position out the window. Her forearms were rested on the sill, and her feet were hooked onto the bottom of the inactive heater, so she was in no danger of falling the five flights down. If Billy came up behind her and gave a push… she would not be so safe.

Would it be better if Billy killed her? It would be harder for him to carry all his stolen shit, but he probably would keep on killing anyway. Max didn’t have to ask him to know that he liked it. It wasn’t just a job to him. Her brother was a full-on psycho-murderer, and she was still not going to the police, because, legally, they couldn’t do anything. Even if they cared about Northerners getting murdered, or if they felt like listening to a teenage tunnelkid, which she knew they most certainly did not. Even if the police station wasn’t located behind the first border and she couldn’t afford the fare that would get her in. 

“Max,” she heard, softly from behind her, and she whipped her head back inside. Billy was standing outside the door of the apartment he’d chosen today: 18B. His hands were dark and wet, and his eyes gleamed. Without any more instruction, Max quietly closed the window and followed him inside, already unzipping the duffel bag she’d brought.

At least the room wasn’t drenched in blood. Billy had the decency to be subtle on his baby sister’s birthday.

No words were spoken between them as Billy raided the pantry, then the fridge, then the clothing drawers. A drawback to limiting his murder sprees to North Hawkins: no one really had anything to steal. This further cemented Max’s conviction that Billy did this for fun, did it for the rush. Did it to combat the boredom, the anger, whatever the hell lived inside his head.

They moved through the rooms, avoiding the bathroom, which meant that whoever Billy had killed today was stuffed inside. He’d even taken out the impressive bulk toilet paper bundles so Max didn’t have to see it. So she didn’t start throwing up or going unresponsive or crying. How considerate.

The toilet paper was a good find, though. Billy wouldn’t be pissed off tonight, and business would be okay tomorrow. The thought that the toilet paper was _supposed_ to be for the now-dead butt of a stranger was shoved from Max’s mind. 

Billy had just finished, and was digging his Saelbike keys out of his pocket when they both heard it. A floorboard complaining, somewhere right outside the apartment.

They froze, instinctually. Max gripped her duffel and barely breathed, listening for another creak to confirm what was going on. It was funny, but when she focused she could hear a sort of high-pitched ringing, like something buzzing in her ear. This reached a sudden pitch, and she realized that she knew exactly what was going on.

Billy looked at her and mouthed, _it's them_ , and they scattered.

Kali was always restless in the summertime. El knew that she despised the heat, sweat making her shed her thick jackets like corn husks, her makeup sweating off her face in black and purple beads. She also knew that she hated when their cases went unresolved, and they had been pursuing  _ this  _ villian for three months now with no luck at all.

It infuriated Kali, El could tell. They would get so close, El certain that she could sense him right inside the room, but they would burst in and find only bodies, bloodied and limp. It drove Kali crazy and made El upset, upset that they were so incompetent when it came to real killers and successful with petty thieves and one-time criminals. 

During the summer, Kali would stay home sometimes and let El make her rounds on the streets, down the Plaza, in the tunnels, watching, quiet. When she saw someone whose eyes glinted with signature malice she’d begin to tail them and wait for them to mess up. Sometimes she wasted whole nights like that. But it was the right thing to do.

She was pretty sure it was the right thing to do.

It  _ helped _ , she thought. She had saved her fair share of damsels, female or otherwise, when they were caught between a rock and a hard place, and, though they always looked at her in sheer terror and ran away, she thought they appreciated her none the less.

If she could stop this killer…

The Two Month Killer, she thought of him, even though it had now been three months. Two months in, it had sounded cool. She knew his light eyes, the slight upturn of his nose, his violently red mouth. She knew the old-timey burglar's mask he used. And she knew how he killed with a gun and with a knife; when he wanted to annihilate and when he wanted to mutilate. The Two Month Killer. If she could take him down, the world would be a safer place. She was certain of that.

Now, they were closer than they’d ever been. He stood in the room they were outside of. El could hear the plod of his boots, and the lighter footsteps of his accomplice. Out of the corner of her eye, El could see Kali readying herself to hide them as they walked it. Then, El would blow both of their brains out, and they could leave relieved.

Then, the floorboard creaked.

Kali looked at her, panicked, and El waved her hand to tell her to go already, get them in before it was too late. Kali nodded, which El took to mean that she was ready, so El stalked in. She did not expect for the Two Month Killer to look directly at her and point a gun.

Everything happened fast. El wasn’t expecting a sudden attack, so she reached out and flung the gun away. The Two Month Killer growled, working up to a roar, and El forgot herself as was momentarily afraid. He didn’t advance on her. Instead, he bounded over the window and paused.

“Stop!” El cried, and reached out to freeze him in place. It worked for a moment. She could see his biceps strain from the effort to break from her control. She slowed her breathing and focused.

El had a trick with her powers, which was to push and pull. She needed the drag of her inhale before she could really do anything, needed to steady herself for a charge. Kali taught her that. Kali also taught her how to use rage, but El was more focused now on steadying.

Then Kali barrelled into her. 

They both shouted in surprise. El lost her grip as she fell, and she watched as he stepped onto the window and jumped out, the ratty curls of his mullet disappearing over the edge. “Stop!” she yelled again, and she and Kali shoved themselves up, running to the window. 

He was, of course, gone. Their last two ambushes had gone similarly. 

“Fuck!” Kali said, slamming one of her hands against the wall. “Shit, we almost had him!”

El was silent, watching the street below. Completely deserted. A ghost town, no one willing to be out in the heat. The tunnels would be crowded for the next few months, people revelling in the coolness of the below-ground shade.

“We need more clear signals,” she said, and her voice sounded absent. Truth be told, she was feeling hollow. Tonight should have been the night. It wasn’t fair that they got away, to kill again.

“Do you think you could find him?” Kali asked, but El just touched the wetness under her nose in response. Recently, searches had taken it out of her. All the work they’d done just to get here was painfully draining.

Kali walked to the other side of the room and picked up the gun. She tucked it in her jeans, flapping the top of her shirt as she did so. It was beastly hot in here- already she could smell iron seeping from the bathroom. He always hid them in the bathroom. Like he wanted the place presentable.

“Drinks on me,” El said with a sigh, a common joke between them. Usually it made Kali smile. But it was clear she wasn’t in a smiling mood, and they had a long way to walk to get home. So El just mopped at her nose and waited to leave.

Max dropped Billy off at his Saelbike, a block away from the apartments, and he nodded at her to take off after she handed him the duffel. That was fine with her; she didn’t want to go home anyway.

Her Saelboard was her prized possession. Like, really, really prized. Sleek and compact enough for her to whip it out to expand when they were on a job, it could carry her and Billy ten feet, and her twenty feet, off the ground, way better than Billy’s used bike. It was the only present Billy ever gave Max, and she knew it was for practicality, and also because he thought he would look lame riding around on the high-tech version of a kid’s toy.

Whatever. Max loved it. She was pretty good at it, too, able to keep herself steady in midair with no issue. The first few months she had nearly killed herself accidentally flipping over, but now she could do it on purpose, turning loops and clutching the edge to balance herself. The heat was still pervasive in the sky, but when she went fast enough the wind burned cold. So she went, not really caring if their stalkers could see her silhouetted against the pale night sky.

She thought about going to the Plaza, seeing if Dustin or Lucas were still up, but the thought made her itch. She didn’t want to see them after a job. She knew they could smell guilt, and while they wouldn’t press her, she didn’t want them to know. So she just did circles around the Bones, watching building after building drop off from under her.

From here she could see to the West Tunnel. The spires of Central Hawkins clawed at the sky, ivory-bright, looking like broken parentheses. The world from up _there_ must seem beautiful, Max guessed. Why else would everyone there be so damn relaxed about people like her brother? 

She could see over the wall, to the shadowy edge of the mountains that ringed their city like a bowl. If Max were feeling stupider she might go coasting towards it, and get shot down by the soldiers on patrol. You either starve in the city or die trying to get out. What a time to be alive.

She spent nearly an hour up there, until her legs burned and her face felt numb. She was seventeen now, she supposed. It could be a year of confidence, or change. She could actually do something about her situation, maybe finally run away, maybe get a job in the Plaza and live with Dustin and Lucas. That was a big one, though unlikely. She could start smaller- cut her hair off, maybe even find someone willing to buy it off her. She could maybe ask the cute girl who sometimes came to her stall to come down to the Plaza with her.

Max knew she wouldn’t. Birthdays weren't anything- age didn't determine change, except hair turning grey and teeth rotting out. No immaterial shift could flip the switch, make her less of a coward. Nothing and no one was going to save Max Mayfield, now or ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a vision of Max flying through the air on a skateboard, and I realized that there was only one way that could happen, which was writing her into a future Hawkins where she was an unwilling assistant to her serial killer brother. If you read this first chapter, thank you so much! You're number one in my book :)  
> PS Please note that El's hair is her season two look NOT her season three look. It is very important to me that you know this.


	2. East Inner Hawkins, 7:32 AM

The green in his hair was fading out. It really pissed Mike off.

It meant that the supplements he bought last year (Grow Green! How To Solve Your Hair Woes With One Pill A Day!) were  _ not  _ as effective as they claimed, but that was hardly surprising. It also meant that he would look less and less like he actually  _ belonged  _ to the Wheeler family and more like he was an off-brand wannabe, which was hardly ideal when he needed to pull the  _ my family is rich and powerful and kindly get the fuck out of my way card _ . That had worked less and less in the past few years, since his mom decided he should spend time with his dad in the “working class city” and essentially kicked him out of the Wheeler spotlight.

Maybe the “Wheeler green” was fading because Mike wasn’t a Wheeler anymore. Not like Nancy. Nancy made front page news whenever she wiped her ass, and Mike was walking around the city like he was nobody.

Maybe it was supposed to be a blessing. But Mike had always enjoyed attention. That, and he enjoyed living in the Towers. The water was always hot, and you could literally go unbothered by anyone for days, except, like, a passing maid. And Mike’s dad was a lazy son of a bitch and Mike hated to be around him.

Exhibit A: he liked to drag Mike to the police house to do his annual check-ups, but always forbade him from going inside the house at all, leaving him stranded outside in the scorching heat. This was exactly how his morning was going. It was seven in the goddamned morning, and the sun was out and beaming down. Beaming was not the right word.  _ Punching  _ was more like it. The sun punched at Mike’s face and his fading-back-to-black hair, and his sunglasses, which were ineffective because they weren’t for function but rather to complement his shirt. 

A bad morning.

Mike decided to wander off.

The police house was huge and painted light pink, visible from any point along the streets a mile or so away. “Police house” was the wrong name for it- it wasn’t a station, as far as Mike could tell, and it dealt with  _ lots  _ of business that wasn’t police-related. For example, there was a hospital in it, and Mike knew because the only time he’d ever gone in he’d somehow snuck into it. The rest of the interior was wooden, meant to look like a cabin or something, but the hospital part was stark white, with pasty linoleum that squeaked underfoot. Mike had caught a glimpse of a few doors, marked with weird symbols before someone had grabbed him and hauled him out of there.

Maybe there was a reason Mike was not allowed inside the police house.

The city at this time of day was boring. It was the beginning of summer, so rampant celebration was common at night, but the only people out now were staggering drunks and the disgruntled bar employees who escorted them out of their establishments. Anyone on their way down to the factories to work had long ago left, and any self-respecting businessperson was inside somewhere with AC or a strong fan. So Mike walked virtually alone through the streets. They seemed to shimmer with heat, which really wasn’t fair at this time of day.

He was debating with himself whether or not his dad had made good on his threat to block his credit card and if he could go buy a drink when he saw someone approaching from the opposite direction, clearly having just turned down the street. Mike didn’t pause. There was no reason to; it was a wide street.

The person, however, seemed not to care about this fact, and headed straight towards Mike. Mike noticed three things about them: bowlcut hair (interesting choice. Not that bad, but definitely weird), cargo shorts, and probably a guy. Oh, and a fourth: he was staring right at Mike. Intensely. Like he had planned all this out and both of them were just following his script.

Mike was ready to walk by him. He looked about Mike’s age, probably younger, and he was kind of cute, but Mike wasn’t in the mood to flirt and he was a little creeped out. Bowlcut didn’t even give him a chance. When Mike side-stepped to avoid him, he stepped with him and pointed right at Mike. Like, in his face.

“You’re Mike Wheeler,” he said. He didn’t smile when he said it, didn’t even sound nervous, though his voice was quiet. 

Mike slipped his hands into his pockets and regarded him, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see his eyes through the glasses. Fan ambushes had largely stopped in recent years (the Towers situation) though Mike was certain that he had finally started growing into his looks and he should be more popular than ever, but it wasn’t that weird. The weird part was this kid’s look of expectancy. “I am,” Mike said, at last.

Bowlcut seemed to bite the insides of his cheeks. He had smooth skin, totally unblemished, which just seemed unfair. He also had long eyelashes. Was he a model? Maybe he knew Mike from somewhere. The thought would’ve made Mike sweat if he wasn’t already drenched. But then again, Mike was irritated, and he couldn't possibly be expected to remember every no-name model he came across. He wasn't the heir, after all.

“Do you…” he said, quietly, and Mike leaned down to hear him more clearly. It was needlessly condescending, Mike realized too late. They had about an inch of height difference. “Do you know… Jane?”

“Jane?” Oh shit, this kid was really testing him. “Um. Jane from where?”

“From, uh… Saelboarding?”

Mike had never touched a Saelboard in his life. He tried to remember if he’d ever met the model who did their commercials. “Um… uh…”

He was really drawing a blank. He sighed.

“Okay, I don’t remember. Was it from that party a few weeks ago? Because I left, like, halfway and I was highly non-functioning before I did, so if I met you, or Jane, I really don’t remember it.”

“I’ve never met you before,” Bowlcut said, immediately.

Mike blinked. “Oh. Uh… fan?”

“Of  _ you _ ?” Bowlcut looked confused. “Are you a… courtesan? I don’t keep up with those kinds of things.”

Mike snorted. “I’m not a  _ courtesan _ . I’m a  _ Wheeler.  _ Mike  _ Wheeler? _ Brother to Nancy Wheeler?” He stopped himself, and changed gears. “What do you want from me, then, if you don’t know me?”

Now Bowlcut looked annoyed. “I’m just looking for Jane.”

“How’d you know my name?”

Bowlcut opened his mouth. Mike had him there. “Lucky guess?” he said, feebly, and Mike smirked in victory. He hadn’t won anything, though, so he stopped smirking and glowered instead.

“I don’t know what kind of prank or joke or whatever this is.”

“It’s not!” He said it was a sudden intensity, like he really needed Mike to understand how not-joking he was. “If you know Jane…”

“I don’t fucking know Jane, so, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my security team…” Mike turned away from him and started walking briskly back where he came. His loafers were practically filled with sweat, which was disgusting, and he was actually sort of nervous. The whole situation put him on edge.

“Jerzy’s!” he heard, suddenly, from behind him. He half-turned his head over his shoulder, then decided to not look and just keep going. Weird fucking fan. Mike didn’t have time for this. Now he had to go stand outside the police house and wait for his father to waltz out, looking secretive and bored, somehow at the same time. Then, Mike was going to take a nice long lounge for the rest of the day. Because he deserved it, after this disruption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike is stupid and he's just going to get stupider.  
> The thing about courtesans is DEFINITELY coming up again. But they're more than prostitutes for the rich, they're usually made into these quasi-celebrities who don't have much power and are constantly being shitted on by the rest of the upper class. Anyway, keep that one on the back burner.  
> Thank you so much for reading!! :) :) Next chapter: el and max actually interact!


	3. Northern Tunnel, 9:45 AM

So, the tunnels.

They were technically bomb shelters, built in 2090, but disused for about a decade. Like the Vet Village, they were a remnant from a violent time, but unlike the Vet Village, they had been put to good use. Apparently, the government of 2090 were sure that the citizens of Hawkins would need to temporarily relocate entirely into the tunnels, so they came equipped with hundreds of stone alcoves, partitioned for privacy, and still mostly-functional bathrooms and sinks. The biggest issue with them was the smell, oppressive even in the huge width of the tunnel. But El could normally look beyond that and feel grateful.

She really was grateful. It didn’t piss her off so much as it made her feel heavy and bogged-down and annoyed. That was her mood the morning after the failure of the Two-Month-Killer. 

She got up and went to the nearby bathroom then came slogging back to see how Kali was doing. She passed a few of her neighbors and decided to ignore them; Kali thought she was being too friendly, lately, and, in her words, “girls like you can’t get away with being friendly”.  _ Girls like her. _ El thought she meant young, probably. Young-faced. She looked fourteen, the two other years rejected by her baby-round cheeks and perpetually flat chest.

Kali, of course, wasn’t up. She had passed out on top of her clothes, and she lay with her body almost twisted around, her butt and face trying to reach the same way. It made El laugh, but she didn’t, because she really couldn’t afford to wake Kali up and face her wrath the night after a big loss. She decided that she was going to make her weekly cereal run and really surprise Kali when she got back.

Though there were shops in North Hawkins, scattered at random through the Bones and looking like they didn't belong, a mostly-functional bartering economy had thrived in the tunnels. It wasn't exactly as if Kali had much time to work in between them tracking down killers and thieves, so that worked fine for them. After all, El still had hundreds of cans. Soup, dog food, corned beef.  Her dad had been a bit of a survivalist.

Making her way down the tunnel, El felt her heart sort of squirm in her chest, and she couldn’t stop her smile from slipping through her mask of disinterest. Before her, the overhead grates shone streams of light down, so bright that El had to squint when she walked through them. It was those openings to the outside world that kept the tunnels from really being hellholes, and sometimes El stood in their square centers and breathed in, and imagined she was breathing pure light.

That wasn’t right. Kali, who was so kind about so many things, had been the first to tell El that sometimes she said things in a strange way. “Not the wrong way,” Kali had assured her, looking nervous (this was back in El’s angrier days, when anything was enough for things to go flying. She was eleven years old). “Just different. It can be hard to understand.”

It was Kali’s only complaint, for a long time. Of course, five years had borne them a relationship that was not so smoothly compliant.

El put that from her mind as she approached her destination. Not everyone who dealt in food and goods was willing to take cans for it, especially cans that had been sitting around for years. But Max took it.

That was her name. Max. She had a wide smile and freckles as bright as her hair. Both Kali and El looked perpetually greasy, especially with how much they were sweating, but Max seemed blissfully immune. Her hair maintained volume year-round, and it was the most vibrant red El had ever seen. She was really one of the prettiest people El had ever met.

And she was sitting outside her own space, her bare feet stacked on top of each other. Max had constructed a little tarp-tent that jutted a ways out from her little cave, though there was nothing to shield from down here, and she put a big curtain over it with a chair and table in front of it. She was reading a paperback that looked like it had been ripped in half.  When El approached, she looked up. She smiled.

“Hey,” she said. “What are you here for today?”

El glanced shyly down at her bitten fingernails. “Cornflakes? And tampons would be good.”

Max’s eyes sparkled. “We don’t have cornflakes, but… here, come here.” El leaned towards her, and Max whispered, conspiratorially, “we have  _ frosted  _ flakes.”

“I only have a can,” El said, smiling apologetically, heart sinking. Max, however, waved one of her hands dismissively.

“You’re my valued customer. I’ll take your can, and you take them , hm?”

She leaned back in her old camping chair, the metal squeaking ominously as she did so, and retrieved a plastic baggy full of orange flakes from beyond her curtain, like it had been sitting just out of reach. She passed it to El, and then got her a box of tampons. Max was really too nice to her; anyone else would have haggled for two or three only.

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s okay,” Max promised, and her eyes got a hollow look. “I just got a new shipment last night, so.”

She passed her the box, and their fingers brushed together. El felt herself blush, and wondered if Max noticed. Kali said she got a sort deer-in-the-headlights look when she got nervous, and El hoped she didn’t look like that now. If Max noticed, however, she didn’t seem as if she really cared.

“How’s your morning?” she asked her, taking the soup. It was tomato, which El knew was her favorite (El knew only a few things about Max, but this was something Max had said to her before). El shrugged. To be honest, it was probably going to be very bad when she got back. “Understandable. Didn’t sleep well?”

“No,” El said, then dropped her voice. “ _ I couldn’t stop dreaming of you _ .”

Max laughed, and El grinned. Kali was always saying that joke, and El was a little worried Max would take it too literally. Of course, if she did…

It wouldn’t necessarily be a problem.

“I’m sure you were. And here’s to today going better.”

She raised the soup can as if to toast to El’s good health. El raised the tampons in the same way and watched Max’s eyelashes. They were long and thick, and utterly gorgeous.

“There’s a summer celebratory at the Plaza tonight,” El blurted, suddenly. That wasn’t like her. She didn't blurt. She  _ never  _ blurted in front of Max.

Max got a weird sort of look on her face. “There is.”

El stared at her, terrified that she would miss her implied meaning. Max smiled, and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you gonna ask me to go with you?” she asked.

“If you want to,” El said, relieved. Now she was sweating, and her throat felt tight with resolved anxiety. Max smiled, and reached for one of El’s hands suddenly. El went still, and Max pressed it between her own. They were  _ never  _ this flirtily touchy with each other.

“Alright,” Max said. “It’ll be a little post-birthday party. Are you gonna pick me up at eight?”

“Around then.” El didn’t have a watch, so she’d probably be early. “How about sunset? I’ll meet you here.”

“Okay.” Max giggled, which seemed out-of-character considering how boldly she was touching El’s hands. “Sorry, I don’t even know your name. How old are you?”

El could feel a pleasant buzz throughout her body, the aftershock of spitting something out at last. “I’m El. I’m sixteen.”

“Well,  _ I  _ turned seventeen yesterday.” She used a fake-lofty voice.

“Happy birthday, yesterday.”

She let go of El’s hand and met her eyes. “I’m Max.”

El smiled, fearlessly. “I know your name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not clear, Max and El do not know about each other's "secret identities".  
> I'm not sure how well I explained how the tunnels work lol oh well. Anyway, it looks like a few characters are going to be attending this summer celebratory hmm. Coming up next: Max and Billy FIGHT!!!!!?????  
> Thank you so much for reading! Hope y'all are staying safe!


	4. Above the Northern Tunnel, 11:45 AM

Billy and Heather were smoking on the roof when Max got up there. Smoking and making-out, and almost doing so simultaneously. It was disgusting, and really put Max off romance, which was not the mood she wanted to be in for her date with the cute customer.  _ El _ . She had looked so sweetly nervous when she asked Max, her eyes widened and her curly hair falling around to frame her face. Max couldn’t believe she had asked her, first. Clearly, she had caught on that Max was interested, after months of giving her premium groceries from her murder stock.

Murder stock. Murderer. Her brother. Max snapped back to it.

After a job, they always met here the morning afterwards. Max thought the top of the tunnel was an ominous place, a long mound of concrete sunk into the dirt and flanked by dirt that turned dusty and miserably fine in the summer. If they spent more than five minutes up here, Max was cleaning that shit out of her ears and the edges of her eyelids. It was a place that had no business looking so desolate and arid, since it cut through the city, but the Bones were hardly a buzzing metropolis, and even if they were, the summer heat would still scorch the citizens into submission.

Heather and Billy didn’t seem to notice her until she was standing right in front of them, which was interesting because Heather had definitely looked right at her as she came over. 

Heather was the kind of beautiful that Max was neither expected nor even hoping for. She had long legs, which she showed off in shiny miniskirts and shorts, and boobs that seemed proportional to her skinny body. Max didn’t know where she lived, probably in the apartments, but she always seemed flawlessly made up, winged eyeliner in bubble-gum pink making her eyes look wider and more wicked. When she smiled, Max really believed that she hated her. That was unfair; if Max were honest she sort of respected Heather. In a weird way. She had Billy wrapped around her finger, which was hard enough, and Max knew she was smart. If it weren’t for the murdering and her circumstances, Max would probably be constantly sucking up to her. 

Max stood in front of them and put her hands in her pant pockets. Her legs were sweating, and she could feel it, but it wasn’t exactly as if she wanted to show as much skin as possible.

They broke apart after Billy saw her, their lips disconnecting with a disgusting popping sound. Heather wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled at Max. Did she really think Max was jealous? Max kept her face blank.

“How’d it do?” Billy asked. That was phrased so weirdly. What? How did what do? 

“Sold well,” Max said, casually. “Nothing out of the ordinary. You need money?”

Billy took a drag from his cigarette and nodded slowly. Heather reached over and wiped a smear of lipstick off his chin, and giggled. If Max was a guy, she was pretty sure Heather would be completely civil to her. It was unfair. By her logic, she should be immune, right? She wasn’t trying to get into  _ any  _ guy’s pants. But she wasn’t going to tell Heather that. It was none of  _ her _ fucking business, and Max didn’t give a fuck who her brother boned. 

“How much?”

“Seventy-five,” Billy said, and Max blinked at him in shock. A usual haul only produced about fifty, and Billy wanted her to relinquish  _ seventy-five _ ?

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Billy said. He looked at her, and his eyes were calm in the a way that suggested they wouldn’t stay that way for long. “Is that an issue?”

“I only have sixty right now,” Max said, and refrained from adding  _ and I need that for the Plaza _ . “Can you go get it from the storebox?”

“I asked you to get it.”

“No, I came here because we always come here. For all I knew I could’ve come here without any money.” Max glowered, but toned it down so completely that she probably looked like she was pouting. “Can’t you-”

He flung his cigarette at her, and she yelped, brushing it off her shirt before it could catch. It hadn’t burned her, but it still felt like she’d been stung. Heather laughed, a single, un-ladylike guffaw that sent her brown curls bouncing. Billy snatched her cigarette and took a drag, then didn’t hand it back.

“I can work with sixty, Max,” he said. His voice was a smooth, low line that cautioned Max to back off. “Hand it over.”

Max did. She double-checked her pockets, too, to make sure she wasn’t underpaying him. Billy handed it off to Heather, who was still rummaging in her own pockets for a replacement smoke.

“You’re doing another job,” Max said, folding her arms but keeping her tone light and conversational.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? We almost got caught yesterday.”

“Last I checked, you weren’t in charge of when I went out.”

That got a screeching laugh from Heather, and she dragged a finger along his bicep, tracing her way into his hand. She guided the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled.

“I’m not. And I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Billy stood, and Heather stood with him. He looked east. Underneath their feet, the concrete top of the tunnel made a grey line that stretched all the way to the border wall. If Max followed it, maybe she’d get lucky and find a spot with no guards, where she could scale the wall and tell someone to do something. Or she could get shot, no questions asked.

“I might come down later today, but don’t expect me tonight,” Billy said. “Maybe not at all this week.”

“Right.” Billy hated the tunnels. He hated being a tunnelkid, hated everything their dad had left behind for them. It was one thing Max understood about him perfectly.

“Sorry to steal him, Maxie,” Heather said. 

Had she not stood so close to Billy, she might have said something back. But she really couldn’t handle however Billy would react to her taunting his girlfriend, and Max was feeling tired. With that money gone, she’d probably have to beg for some from Lucas or Dustin, though it might be easier to scrounge a few dollars from the storebox. Or just not go at all tonight. But she wasn’t going to let El down off the bat. 

Max said nothing. She turned and walked back through the dust, and watched the sky. Not a cloud in sight, though the blue was looking watery and weak. Even though SHR had plans, Max couldn’t help but wish for rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter robin and steve will finally make an appearance!  
> Thanks so much for reading, and stay safe!


	5. Inner East Hawkins, 3:34 PM

Robin had bleached her hair. Just the ends. She hadn’t told Steve before they came in that day, and he looked really shocked to see her like that.

“Wow, your hair,” he kept saying, at odd intervals. “I mean, wow.”

“You already said that.”

“Yeah, but… I can’t stop staring at it. It looks so…”

“Good?”

“Dry,” Steve said. “Can I touch it? I’m a little afraid to.”

“Keep your hands off me, dingus.”

Robin just rolled her eyes. She had sort of a soft spot for Steve; he was just her police partner, but he was dumb as fuck and she sort of felt bad for him. The guy was gorgeous, but as far as Robin could tell his lovers far outnumbered his friends. 

Robin used to have a beautiful face. Or, at least the means to disguise her face beautifully. Back then she’d dyed her hair dozens of times, until it was the sad, brittle way it was now. Until she wore wigs everywhere. She ruined herself before she got it right, stumbling into being attractive, seductive. She was stupid. Back then.

Regardless, she was bleaching it again now. She had gotten tired of the way she looked in the mirror, sweaty and gaunt and hollow, and her brain had decided to fight it by turning her hair paler. She would’ve dyed it, too, but that wouldn’t fly in the police station. 

That was where they were now. Or, the big one, the police house. They were getting a new mission because, despite his dumbness and her brittleness, Robin and Steve were really fucking good at their jobs.

The elevator doors slid open smoothly on the fifth floor, and they disembarked in sync. Every hallway in this building was faux-authentic to the point where it was disorienting. Robin could smell aggressive lemon cleaner emanating from the walls.

Together, they walked to the furthest door and waited outside to be let in, feet together and shoulders back. Robin was adaptable- years and years of practice made her mind pliable to pick up choreography- and so no one had ever questioned where’d she’d done her three years of training. Maybe the bleach was doing something for her confidence.

“Come in,” they heard, and both of them entered. It was a spacious office, speckled tiling and three houseplants placed around and on the huge white desk. The person who sat behind said desk was… immediately recognizable.

Robin snapped a salute, and Steve echoed a moment behind. Dr. Martin Brenner smiled and leaned forward.

The face of Martin Brenner was a very well-known one in the circles of the elite (and to the people who provided protective services to the elite). He had risen to fame decades ago when he became Karen Wheeler’s courtesan at the height of their family’s power, and subsequently was granted everything he needed for serious investigative study. Science, maybe psychological shit for the veterans that made up nearly half of the city’s population at the time. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was in a position no courtesan had been in, probably ever: he actually held power in the Wheeler name. Robin had just heard rumors, but she was pretty sure Karen Wheeler’s husband had been sent to live in East Inner, at Brenner’s behest.

So, yeah. The guy was pretty powerful.

Now he wanted to see them, which was weird and a little bit alarming, but Robin was keeping it cool. Steve on the other hand…

Well, she hoped she wouldn’t be held accountable for anything he did or said.

“Officer Harrington. Officer Buckley. At ease. Is that what they say in the forces? You’re free to put your hands down and relax.” Brenner inclined his head at the two chairs in front of his desk. Robin reluctantly fell out of position and sat down.

“My name is Dr. Martin Brenner,” Brenner said. He had a strange voice, slow and trying too hard to be soothing. His beady eyes narrowed as he smiled. “I’m sure you know who I am. But I assure you, it will have no effect on the assignment I would like to give to you two. You’re the ones who caught that serial rapist in Starcourt a few months ago?”

When he paused, waiting for a response, Robin gave a short nod. Steve looked at her, obviously confused, and she blinked twice. The blinking meant  _ stop looking at me, I’ll explain everything later. _

“Clearly you two are adept at finding people and taking them in. Your chief spoke kindly of you.” Brenner bounced his gaze amicably between them. “So I’d like to give you a new assignment. I want you to find two fugitives for me and bring them in for arrest.”

He slid over the desk two shiny pictures. One was of a very young child, probably seven or eight, with huge eyes and braided hair. The other showed two figures disappearing around a corner. One was obscured, but the other was looking out, revealing a thin face and curly brown hair. She couldn’t have been too old, probably seventeen or eighteen.

“These two young women are currently on the run, and I’d like them back,” Brenner said. He tapped the photo of the younger girl with a long, crooked finger. “This is the only photo we have of the second woman, but our records show her as currently being twenty four years old. Alias  _ Eight _ . A few sources have described her as short with a half-shaven head and purple hair. It is unclear if she somehow found supplements, but that’s irrelevant. Her accomplice, or ‘sister’,” and here Brenner made air-quotes, looking like this was a joke he understood, “is seventeen years old. Alias  _ eleven _ . Sources called her tall, bony, with short curly hair like a boy’s.”

Robin nodded, brow furrowing. Brenner wanted them to chase down a teenager? What did she do, key his car and call him a dickbag? 

“Their last known sighting was in Northern Hawkins, and we have reason to believe they are living in or near the Plaza. Therefore, tonight, I’d like you two to investigate the summer celebratory. Feel no pressure today to capture them, but if you can find them, follow them. See where they go, and who they associate with. Can I count on you two?”

He gave them a dazzling grin. Robin could sort of see the charming young man that had floated to the top of Hawkin’s elite. Behind his white hair and wrinkled cheeks, he could have had a youthful handsomeness. Maybe his voice was sexy back in the day.

“Are we working alone on this one?” Steve asked, cautiously. At least he sounded meek while blatantly disrespecting a superior.

“This matter is of some delicacy, and I’d like to keep it close and tight.” Robin pointedly did not wrinkle her nose. “I don’t want too many people getting involved.”

He leaned back like he’d given them all they needed, and Robin stood. Steve followed, probably looking confused. Idiot.

“Here, keep the pictures,” Brenner said. “And go catch my crooks. Good luck!”

Robin saluted, and marched out the door.

She reached the elevator first, and Steve didn’t even wait to get in before he was asking, “hey, what was  _ that  _ about?”

Robin shook her head and stared straight forward until the doors closed, then she looked at him. “You can’t question a superior, Steve. He gave us our orders. Now we see them done.”

Steve’s forehead wrinkled. It was not a new sight to Robin. “So we’re tracking down a kid and another kid in a party that’ll be full of hundreds of people-”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Steve. No excuses.”

“I’m just putting out some realistic hypotheticals.”

“And I’m telling you- it’s our job. Even if it’s weird, we do our job.” The elevator stopped at the first floor and slid open. Robin stepped out. “You and me are partying tonight. In the name of Martin Brenner, and justice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no energy anymore... I really thought I’d be productive during quarantine...  
> Next chapter: Kali! They’ll reach this summer party eventually lol


	6. The Northern Tunnel, 4:45 PM

Kali woke up with a headache and frosted flakes. The frosted flakes were propped against her stomach, undoubtedly from Jane. The headache was less easy to pin the blame on. The most likely candidate was the Two-Month Killer, slipping away  _ yet  _ again last night, but that was too simple. Kali was more inclined to believe it was linked to the fact that she and Jane’s sloppy teamwork had been the cause of the Two-Month Killer getting away.

Kali rolled over and sat up, the bag crunching under her side as she did so, and she looked around for Jane. She knew she’d slept in because she’d woken up at ten and decided that there was no time like the present to sleep for six hours. She deserved it, probably. The last few weeks had been a dizzying tumble, and Kali had spent most of her time awake. Practicing, chasing down a target, trying to escape the heat. That was futile, always, in the summer. She could feel sweat drying on her face, under her clothes, and she desperately wished she could take a shower.

Jane was nowhere to be found, so Kali changed out her shirt behind the shield of her blankets and stood up to find her. Then, she took a handful of frosted flakes and shoved them in her mouth. They tasted stale, but that didn’t make them any less blessedly sweet. Kali swallowed and poked her head out of their little tent.

Most people were in the tunnels, sitting or making repairs. Kali didn’t spend a lot of time in the tunnels, but she knew enough about her neighbors to incline her head at them as she passed. She was always telling Jane to be careful about who she smiled at, but that wa because Jane looked like she could be snapped in two with a well-placed kick. She had grown up tall and skinny, and she had developed an affinity for overalls, so she had never looked as dangerous as she was. That was a weapon, sure. But it made Kali scared for her. Just a little. 

She looked for Jane down where the shops were. Kali was aware of a girl that Jane liked who had a store down here, and while Kali had no interest in bothering Jane’s chances she also knew exactly where it was. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the redhead who normally manned it was in. Kali kept walking. If she didn’t find Jane by the showers, she was going to the Plaza by herself.

She passed a little too close to a guy walking the other way, and their shoulders brushed. Kali turned, slightly, to see if he would stop her, and saw that he had completely stopped. He was a big guy, wearing a tank that left his bulging, tanned muscles bared. He would have been handsome, had he not been wearing a very clearly styled mullet. Their eyes met. 

A chill went through her, despite the heat. His eyes were light green, almost sickly green. She kept walking, weirded out by whatever the fuck he was seeing in her. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not; both were equally undesirable.

Her pace quickened a little when she thought she heard footsteps behind her. It was a ridiculous fear, but she was struck by the fact that she might not be able to get her powers to work on him in time, and she had no way of knowing if the people around her were going to help. 

Faster, now. She was almost certain she could hear someone approaching. Kali stopped abruptly. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and whirled around.

“Kali!” Jane said, already smiling. Her eyebrows tended to go high when she smiled, and the overall effect was a clownish caricature of happiness. “You’re taking a shower?”

Kali shook her head, relieved. “I was looking for you.”

“Sorry. Bathroom line ran long.” 

Kali mentally kicked herself for not thinking of that. Her brain really must be muddled from her sleep. Kali said nothing, just pointed back where she came, and Jane fell into step beside her. Again, Kali was reminded of how tall she was, because she towered over her. 

“How did you sleep?” Jane asked.

“Well. I saw your cereal.”

“I thought you might like it,” Jane said. “Speaking of  _ that store _ …”

She lowered her voice, as they were now passing the store in question. Kali glanced over, and goosebumps erupted once again. Mullet boy was sitting in the chair outside it, where the redhead usually sat, staring  _ right  _ at her. His lips went up, suddenly, subtley, like he knew something she didn’t. She fixed him with her most intense stare, the one that meant trouble if he tried anything, and turned back to face forward.

“I went to it, this morning,” Jane continued, whispering excitedly, oblivious to what had just happened. “ _ That store _ . And I had just gotten the cereal, and I asked  _ her _ to go to the summer celebratory with me!”

Kali came back to herself. “Who?”

“The  _ girl _ and  _ that store _ ,” Jane explained. “Her name’s Max. She’s seventeen. She just turned seventeen.”

“You’re going to the celebratory with her?” Kali asked, slowly.

Jane nodded, eyes sparkling. “Tonight. I’m picking her up at sunset.”

Kali hummed, and glanced behind her. She could see mullet boy, and she could see redhead next to him, telling him something. It was much too far to see their faces, but they weren’t throwing punches. They knew each other, obviously.

“I’m not sure you should go,” Kali said, quietly.

“What?” Jane said, not matching her volume in the slightest. “Why not? I invited her. She said yes.”

“We should train tonight,” Kali said.

“We train every night.”

“I think we should go out then.”

“You can go out by yourself. I do it all the time.” She sounded petulant, and wounded. Kali felt bad; she knew how long Jane had been waiting to talk to this girl. And there was no guarantee that there was a problem, but Kali didn’t like how that boy had looked at her. 

“We’re better together.”

“Tomorrow,” Jane promised. “Why don’t you sleep?”

“I’ve slept plenty today,” Kali said, dryly. But, she paused. It wasn’t like she could prevent Jane from leaving, and Jane could take care of herself. In some ways, she was more equipped for that than Kali was. 

Plus, Kali could always watch from afar.

“Fine,” Kali said. “Have fun. Go win her over.”

“I’ll try.” 

Kali looked at her. Jane was blushing, looking so sweetly nervous that it made Kali’s heart hurt. They were similar, in some ways. Jane was what Kali had  _ been _ , bashful and happy, and she hadn’t yet figured out how to shield herself. For that, Kali wished dearly that the night was nothing but a date, innocent and lovely.

Kali had always just wanted the best for Jane. The best the world could offer. Because there was still hope for her when there was none left for Kali.

Max had to be completely honest: she had no fucking clue what she was doing.

Max wasn’t the dating type. Not the dating girl. She and Lucas had… had their weird little thing two years ago, a gangly, hormonal type of passion that had dissolved so quickly she usually forgot about it entirely, but that wasn’t dating. That was just… rolling around. Blindly. It had been stupid, and they never spoke of it now. But anyway, there was no need for Max to make herself look nice to go and meet Lucas, because she didn’t really care what he thought of how she looked.

El, on the other hand…

Max was going to make an effort. Because she thought she was cute. Because she was seventeen, goddamnit, and she was allowed moments of fucking tenderness between her slow descent into hell. 

Billy actually had makeup- he used to wear it out when he was younger, but Max was certain Heather had put a stop to that. She liked to be the one wearing the makeup in the relationship. Max dug it out from under an upside-down cardboard box: mascara that crumbled off the little applicator, cracked but vibrantly pink blush, dry blue and pink eyeliners, and a palette of tiny eyeshadow squares. They were mesmerizing to look at. She felt like she was holding one of those artist-plates you put the paints on. She was a facial artist.

That statement was quickly disproved when she tried to  _ apply  _ the makeup. She used their only mirror, which was small and dirty but still clear enough for her to know how awful she looked. Max ended up trying four times, removing everything with spit on her thumb after each time. Her face was just too  _ soft  _ it seemed; every time she tried to apply something it smudged and smeared too easily. 

At last, Max settled for nothing but eyeshadow, which she patted on gently, a cool kind of green that made her look a little badass. Then she put her hair back in a plait and swapped her jeans for a green corduroy skirt. Corresponding colors for her outfit and makeup, Max noted, pleased with herself. Maybe she would be so good at this she’d get a kiss tonight. 

There was a sudden shuffling from outside her tent, and Max marched out, already prepared to fight, but it was just Billy. Or, rather, it was  _ Billy _ and that was utterly terrifying.

“You're early- I thought you were coming in later?” Max said, feeling cold and distraught.

Billy collapsed into her chair and looked at her. His nose wrinkled, marring his coolly handsome face. “What the fuck is that supposed to be? Makeup?”

“I’ve got a… thing,” Max said, lamely. She had really not expected him back while she was still here. At least he and Heather weren’t  _ both  _ here, looking for a little privacy.

“You look like you’re going peddling,” Billy said. He calmly lit a cigarette, like that wasn’t going to cause a fucking uproar with their neighbors. “Are you a whore? You can tell me, Max. I’d be impressed.”

Max flushed, but said nothing. It was best not to respond to comments like that, because no answer was the right answer. Besides, they both knew Max wouldn’t get anywhere trying to prostitute herself. She didn’t have the skills or the looks, and they wouldn’t be living in the fucking tunnel if she did.

“What do you need down here?” Max asked, keeping her voice calm. She spoke to him like he was a wild animal that might suddenly attack her.

“Shade. Heather had to run home.”

Max had no idea where Heather lived. Billy didn’t either, which was wise on Heather’s part. She didn’t tell Billy that someone was coming to pick her up- she figured that he’d be long gone by then.

He wasn’t. Max was sitting in front of her own desk, idly tapping out a beat on her leg, when she saw El approaching. She caught her when she was two feet away.

She looked gorgeous, obviously. She was wearing a pair of short green overalls that Max had seen her wear before, but she was also wearing heavy, dark eye makeup that Max was by no means used to. Max’s foolish heart swelled for second- El had put in effort, too.

Then, it plummeted. Max sprung to her feet, but it was too late. El was saying, “are you ready to go?”

Max froze, blood pumping too loud in her ears. She couldn’t see Billy’s reaction to El, but she could see El looking at him. Her brown eyes went thoughtful, then politely confused.

“Max,” Billy said, drawing out her name the way he tended to do when they had company and he wanted them to think their relationship was significantly kinder than it was. “Who is this?”

“My friend,” Max said flatly. “We’ve got to go. Bye, Billy.”

Billy caught her arm from behind as she tried to walk away, and she turned. His eyes were wide and amused. Cruelly amused. Blood-thirsty amused. 

“Let me talk to you for a second,” he said, and pulled her into their tent. 

In the cramped space he hunched over her. “What are you doing?” he asked, with that shining amusement.

Max swallowed, then sighed. “Fine. It’s a date, okay? I’ve got a date. But she doesn’t-”

Billy burst out laughing. “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“It’s very casual. We barely know each other.”

“Clearly.” Billy was smiling with his tongue between his teeth. “Max. Do you know who that girl is?”

Max shut her mouth. If this was some ploy for Billy to get her name.

Billy leaned in and whispered. “ _ She’s one of them. _ ”

It took a second for the words to click into Max’s mind, but even if they had gotten faster she wouldn’t have been able to speak. Her whole body went numb.

“She’s the one with the telekenitricks,” Billy said, and in another life Max would have laughed. “The mind control. Freeze your muscles. I’ve seen her before.”

Max unglued her mouth. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Listen, this is so much better than what me and Heather had planned. In fact, screw Heather. I’ll be chaperoning your date tonight.”

“What?”

Billy’s whole face was lit up, a kid at Christmas. “This is the perfect opportunity to cut the legs out from underneath them! We kill the kid, the other one’ll give up. And she won’t even know what hit her.”

Max couldn’t even unglue her mouth.

“Alright, you get her comfortable. Take her for a bite, show her the Plaza, and I’ll be watching. Then, you lead her into some dark alley and we’ll have her.” Billy raked a hand through his hair. “And here Heather had me convinced you were useless.”

“I can’t-”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Billy promised, like that even made sense. Of course she was doing something. She was acting as bait. Or, like, an undercover agent. She wanted to throw up. El had put on makeup.

And yet, her body moved without her thinking. She didn’t tell Billy no again. Instead, she turned and walked back out to El, who was waiting and looking curious.

“Sorry about that,” Max’s mouth said. “My brother is so overprotective sometimes.”

“It’s no problem,” El said, smiling. Her lips were glossy. Max wished she were dead. “Can you go?”

Max’s head nodded. “Tonight’s going to be so fun!” her lips said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in the next scene every character will converge... what's gonna happen???   
> Speaking of hot dystopian cities it has been so fucking hot lately, I don't know what to do. It makes me way to lethargic to write, or do anything. Hope y'all are faring better and staying safe!


End file.
